


I Listened (It's Not Her I Love)

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Confessions, Conversations, F/M, Having fun with my tinfoil, Post Season 7, Undercover Lover Theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 18:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12018123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Jon returns to Winterfell with a large army at his back for the coming war but in disgrace all the same.  He seeks out his sister Sansa to explain himself but she avoids his company.  For Sansa, Jon's return tastes of bitter betrayal though she does her best to stand by him.  But after she is name Queen in the North, they speak at last.





	I Listened (It's Not Her I Love)

_“The Queen in the North! The Queen in the North!”_

The shouts rang throughout the Great Hall and Jon tried not to smile too broadly. He had hoped for this. It had been a gamble but he had fervently hoped for this.

He dared a glance at his companions. Daenerys was furious and Tyrion was worriedly whispering in her ear…not that she listened to him.

The mysterious Master of Whisperers, Lord Varys, was apparently surprised for a change and perhaps entertained by this turn of events though he hid it well enough.

Davos sighed, his disappointment in Jon’s decisions, especially his decision to kneel with seemingly little necessity, at war on his honest face with his disappointment in the Northern lords’ eagerness to cast him off for kneeling to a foreign queen. Worse…a Targaryen.

Jon looked to the head table where Sansa stood along with Arya.  Bran sitting there as well.  He regretted not being beside his siblings...but then he regretted much at present.

Sansa was clearly surprised by this turn of events. She’d tried to rally them to stand behind Jon. Gods only knew why. He didn’t deserve her loyalty. And, he didn’t want it in this instance.

Her unwavering support had been an unexpected hitch in his plans. He nearly groaned in frustration when she stood to speak for him even after Little Lady Mormont had rightfully raked him over the coals and bitingly questioned his intelligence, his faithfulness to his people and his sanity.

Based on Sansa’s distant behaviour towards him since he’d returned with the Dragon Queen at his side two days ago, he would’ve thought she’d not waste her sweet breath on him. She had carefully avoided him. He expected as much though it wounded him. But she couldn’t know how deeply it wounded him. He could barely admit that to himself. To do so would make an already complicated matter more complicated by far.

Arya’s reaction hadn’t surprised him either. She had greeted him with a stinging slap…before she’d jumped into his arms and embraced him tightly, all while calling him an idiot.

Bran had said there were things they needed to discuss but been leery of saying what.  They had yet to find a moment alone together. 

Sam had kept his distance as well.  There was some hurt or wound in his old friend's face that Jon did not understand. 

He swore he would find time for them both once this meeting was done. 

Sansa though...Sansa had made herself conspicuously absent once the necessary courtesies had been dispensed with by claiming urgent business in overseeing the castle and the North. She avoided his company and that of his companions from the South, save Tyrion. She avoided speaking to him directly at any time. She even avoided looking at him no matter how hard he tried to get her to look at him.

It was agony but one that he must endure for the sake of them all. The lies did not please him but they were necessary.

But it would be a greater lie to claim he had not spent every night for a good while now regretting this necessity.

 _Sansa_. He missed her.  He missed the sound of her voice and her warm, bubbling laughter. Sansa’s laughter was a rare and precious thing, like a secret treasure you stumbled across unexpectedly. On the rare occasions he’d heard it since their childhood had passed, he knew no greater joy than to be the cause of that laughter. It lit you up from within and could cause the Wall to weep in its warmth, he believed.

He missed her enchanting smiles, smiles that would likely never be bestowed on him again. He missed that light in her eyes that sparkled when she was moved by something.

Now however, as the lords clamored for Queen Sansa to rule them, she looked his way at long last, a sweet softness in her lovely blue eyes.

Did she seek his opinion…his approval?

 _You don’t need it. This should’ve been yours already_.

He smiled at her, one of the smiles he often gave her. One of the sort he had rarely shared with anyone during the time he’d been absent from Winterfell. He gave her a small nod of encouragement while hoping Daenerys or her counselors would not see.

 

* * *

 

 

She stood alone on the battlements watching the snow cover the tents of the Dothraki that had arrived shortly after the others. How long before their horses started to die of the cold? How long till their riders did as well?

 _I suppose she can have her dragons set something of fire to warm them all_ , Sansa thought sardonically. _But that will not feed them_.

This foreign invader and her wise counselors had trekked North with hardly any food. The foods that had been hoarded by the Northerners would be used to feed the North and its armies. That was one thing Sansa had never planned to give up easily even if she’d been forced to bend the knee. She’d be damned if the North starved all winter for _her_ armies.

_Never. We have bled enough for the South. We won’t starve for them. Let them starve._

Her feet grew cold, along with her hands. It was time to head in and seek her fire. With any luck, she could pass a quiet night not haunted by nightmares from the past…and betrayals from within her own family.

Still, she lingered and called herself a fool. She’d avoided him as much as possible. Why should he join her here? She had thought he might all the same though.

Just as she turned to leave, she heard the crunch of boots in the snow along the walkway and found Jon approaching her. His dark eyes, sad and serious.

She turned back to look out at the landscape, not quite prepared to meet them. It hurt too much.

“I thought you might come,” she said once he was standing a few feet away. “I nearly gave up though.”

“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” he said, his deep Northern rasp sending chills along her spine. “It seems your guards would not permit me up here.”

“What? I gave certain restrictions regarding the Dragon Queen’s party,” she scoffed. “I didn’t say anything about you.”

“I suppose they see me as part of that party now,” he said heavily.

 _Well, you have only yourself to blame there_ , she nearly said.

“It’s alright,” Jon continued with a rueful smirk. “I grew used to walking around without my sword during my time on Dragonstone.”

“They took your sword?” she asked incredulously. She was forced to turn and face him. He spread his cloak to prove that he did indeed lack his sword. “I will speak with them,” she huffed. “You need your sword. And you are allowed wherever you choose to go here. This is your home.” But as she spoke those final words, her voice started to crack with emotion and her eyes filled with unwanted tears. “That is…if you still wish for it to be.”

Those words came out in a whisper and a tear rolled down her cheek unbidden. Jon stepped forward and reached for her hand. She took a step away, refusing him. His touch would only confuse her.

“Sansa,” he said with palatable misery.

 _Why are you so miserable? It’s not your heart that breaks_.

“I still wish for it to be my home. Please…I did what I did because…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said irritably.

“Please…” he begged again. She looked into his eyes and saw that they were filled with tears as were her own. “I listened to you, Sansa. I know it doesn’t look that way from where you stand but I listened.”

“You listened to me? When?! When I told you that Tyrion was different than the other Lannisters but you still shouldn’t go?! Which you did anyway,” she said, trying to mask the pain with anger. “You stood right there, Jon. You stood right there and told me we needed to trust each other!” she shouted, her voice getting louder with every word though it shook. “I trusted you,” she whimpered. “I trusted you, Jon!” she screamed. “Do you have any idea how hard that was for me?! After years of not trusting anyone or anything?! Of being made to pay whenever I was weak enough to do so?! Have you any notion how hard it was to trust?!”

The tears fell freely now. _They may freeze upon my cheeks before they stop though my heart turns to ice_.

“I know, sweet one,” he said sadly. “I know. I’ve tasted betrayal, too.”

“Then, how am I to believe you listened to me when you go South only to…”

“I _listened_ ,” he said. Low and quiet were the words and husky was his voice but there was an urgency in his tone that forced her to lean in against her will and catch his words. “I _listened_ when you told Lady Mormont that you did what you had to do to survive. I’ve done that, too. I did that beyond the Wall with the Wildlings…and I’ve done it since then.”

He took a step nearer and Sansa wished that it did not make her feel such a stirring when he did so.

“I listened to what you said about Father and Robb. I couldn’t trust her like Father trusted Cersei. I couldn’t make the same mistakes…she’s not a trustworthy ally though. I decided that early in our acquaintance. She wants to be a hero but she’s a conqueror. Her desire for the throne is what motivates her actions. I had to find ways to motivate her, to bind her to our cause.”

Sansa had been watching his mouth move as he spoke, hearing the words along with the thrumming in her blood. She should not feel this way. He was her brother…and she was still angry with him.

“Sansa…without help, we will all die when the Night King and his army comes. We may anyway. Our Northern army is not enough. It would never be enough. We couldn’t have defeated Daenerys or Cersei in open battle with our army. Only the winter could defeat them for us. But _he_ brings the storm when he comes. We could never defeat his army without help. I needed her army. I need her dragons even more. I had to do what was necessary to…I had to be smarter…just like you said.”

“You need her dragons, you say. Others have suggested it’s more than that,” she said in a toneless voice. His eyes shifted guiltily away and Sansa wished her heart would finish breaking already…but on and on it went. “Am I expected to believe that you’re not in love with her?” Sansa asked at last.

It was the one thing in all of this that shouldn’t matter to his sister. She had to ask all the same.

“It’s not _her_ I love,” he said as he cupped her cheek and wiped her tears with his gloved hand.

Sansa gazed long into his eyes again. She watched a teardrop roll down his cheek and her heart pounded with unexpected hope.

“Sweet one…did _you_ listen to _me_ , Sansa? Did you listen when I said that the North was my home, that is was part of me and that I would _never_ stop fighting for it?”

She nodded as the breath caught in her throat. _What could he mean? Could he mean what I hope he means? I am a fool to hope for such things_.

“When I said the North, I could’ve as easily replaced that word with Winterfell. I could’ve said your name instead. It’s all the same to me, you see. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe, to save you from what’s coming. I knew they’d cast me aside when I told her I would bend the knee. They would never trust her.  They will never accept her.  I hoped they would choose you to be their queen though I ran a great risk. I’m glad they did. And now the war is too close for her to squabble over our kingdom here or another title. When the war is over though…if we survive, I don’t expect the North to bend the knee as I did. Do you truly believe I’d fight by her side when it comes to that?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But why would you…” she trailed off. There were too many possibilities to consider and too little time.

Jon wiped the last of her tears away but held her face still. “Sansa…did you listen when I promised to protect you? I know you told me not to but it’s the one thing I can’t help trying to do. I meant those words…more than any words I’ve ever said. I’ll protect you or die trying. I’ve made mistakes, I’ll freely admit that. I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve sent someone else. I’ve made more mistakes since then…but I swear to you, I try every day to learn from them.”

He looked away, his face troubled. There was more he wished to say and Sansa wondered if he would.  At last, he sighed and took her hand before he quietly continued.

“I…I chose to go South for another reason. I had to go away. There were things I wanted. Things I couldn’t have,” he finished as he raised his eyes to her once more. They burned with an intensity she recognized at once.

“You were a king. What could you not have that you wanted?” she asked gently.

He swallowed hard but did not answer. It lay there between them…but would either be brave enough to acknowledge it?

Sansa stared at him as the snow drifted softly around them. It was as though they were alone in the world at that moment despite the bustling activity of the castle below. They stood there frozen…locked in this moment. Both aware of the heat that seared the air around them. Her heart felt tight with longing…a longing that could never be met.

“Jon?” Arya’s voice called from nearby. They both jumped guiltily apart and turned to face their younger sister. “Bran wishes to speak with you. He’s waited for the right time. He says it’s very important.”

Jon nodded reluctantly and let go of Sansa’s hand. She felt the absence of his touch at once but allowed him to release her to go and seek Bran.

“Bran asked that we come as well, Sansa.”

“Alright. Where is he?” she asked.

“The crypts,” Arya answered.

Sansa and Jon followed their younger sister across the battlements to seek out their brother. And as they walked, their hands brushed against each other often. Sansa did not pull away and neither did Jon.

By the time they reached the crypt entrance, they’d laced their fingers together without meaning to do so. It was a simple thing to do. There was warmth to be found holding another person’s hand in the biting cold of winter. There could be no harm in that.


End file.
